Where's must-see middle-class TV?

Sunday

The good news is that of the two channels we now receive, one is NBC, which airs one of the best shows on TV.

"Friday Night Lights" - which premieres its second season at 9 p.m. Friday - isn't what you think. You don't need to be a gridiron groupie to get it.

The show is more about surviving the stresses of life than about scrimmages and spikes.

Set in a small west Texas town, "Friday Night Lights" is one of the few dramas that revolve around the stories of real, everyday, middle-class characters.

In most offerings this fall TV season, middle-class people, middle-class homes, even middle-class clothes are tough to find (with the exception of all those middle-class folks trying to win big bucks on reality shows.)

Most characters in prime-time programming live larger and dress better than anyone you know in real life.

But TV characters weren't always in the top income-tax bracket.

Remember "Happy Days," "All in the Family," "Roseanne," even "Little House on the Prairie?" Those characters had modest homes, regular problems and actually struggled to afford things.

Gone are the cheap clothes of "Laverne & Shirley" and worn sleeper sofa of "Alice."

Whether in the McMansions of Wisteria Lane or the family estate in "Brothers and Sisters," everyone on the boob tube seems to be filthy rich and dressed by designers, leaving viewers at home to wonder if we're all alone in our toils to pay our mortgages, cover our prescriptions or even afford basic cable.

Except, that is, when watching "Friday Night Lights."

The show is one of a few that doesn't romanticize the rich, doesn't exalt excesses.

Adapted by Peter Berg from his own film adaptation of H.G. Bissinger's book of the same name, the one-hour drama is about life in the town of Dillon where Panther football is a religion and Friday night high school games a ritual.

Dillon quarterback Jason Street (Scott Porter) was headed toward a Notre Dame scholarship before suffering a football spinal injury and now is in a wheelchair.

His spot on the team was replaced by Matt Saracen (Zach Gilford), who has a father in Iraq and all of the stresses that come with that, including living with a grandmother suffering from dementia. Shaggy-haired sexpot Tim Riggins (Taylor Kitsch) is dealing with parental abandonment.

"Forget it!" some of you say. "Why would I want to see health, political and emotional problems mirrored in high-definition at the end of a workday?"

You prefer distraction and don't care to have your must-see TV tainted with people who lack health insurance, can't pay their credit card bills or are facing first-hand the consequences of the Iraq war.

"Such middle-class woes are too depressing," you say.

You'd rather turn your attention to more pressing matters, like who won on "Deal, or No Deal."

That head-in-the-sand approach explains the poor ratings "Friday Night Lights" received last season. Emmy voters ignored it. The show barely avoided cancellation after its freshman season.

Some TV critics blame the low ratings on viewers mistaking the show as being football-focused. Others theorize the drama's struggle is the result of Hollywood's distaste for programs that include religion. "Friday Night Lights" depicts the people of Dillon turning to prayer in times of trouble.

But chances are money, or lack of it, is the real reason the show was at risk of being cut. Advertisers typically support TV programs that ignore class issues and focus, instead, on escapism.

Don't get me wrong. I lap up shows about the wealthy just like everyone else. But often I'm left thinking "Where are the people like me?"

Where's the storyline, for example, of the couple dealing with the very unglamorous financial fallout that happens when the wife quits her newspaper job to stay with the baby and do freelance work from home? (Played, hopefully, by much more glamorous people than my husband and I.)

Where's the storyline similar to that of a family of four I met whose total cost of healthcare premiums exceeds the family's yearly minimum-wage income?

Watching show after show about the rich only encourages us to place undue importance on material goods that we can't afford.

No wonder the average American family carries about $9,300 in credit-card debt.

But the only thing you'll feel compelled to buy after watching "Friday Night Lights" is maybe a used pair of Levis or a slice of diner pie.